


By The Sword

by Liadt



Category: 17th Century CE RPF, French History RPF, d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, The Frond, pre-book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: Mazarin is trying to get Anne to learn to use a sword which is a fairly pointless task.





	By The Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Written after the characterization in the BBC's 1967 adaptation of 'Twenty Years After'.
> 
> Written for the genprompt bingo prompt: sword world.

In the privacy of her chambers, Anne swung a sword. It was long and heavy, it was made for a man, not a lady. She frowned, she didn’t need to protect herself, others performed that service for her. 

“Come on, Anne, you’re letting the point drop,” said Mazarin. 

It was Jules’ idea for her to learn sword craft. He was fearful of the mob and he’d fallen prey to foolish ideas, she thought. However, he was her lover and she indulged him, when she would not others. 

“This is ridiculous,” said Anne. 

“It is not. What if the mutinous rabble broke in here?” Mazarin wrapped his arms around himself as if to protect himself from it happening. He couldn’t leave the palace, but it wasn’t safe for him to stay.

“They would kill you and leave me alone.”

Mazarin couldn’t dispute that. “They disapprove of you for supporting me, they would take young Louis away to protect him from your influence. You’d fight then, madam,” countered Mazarin.

“Oh! How can you talk of such a thing? They would not part a child from his mother!” Anne paused; tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. “Would they?”

Mazarin remained silent. With no reassurance forthcoming, Anne dropped the sword and fell to the floor in hysterics.

Mazarin went to sooth her. “Do not cry, my lady.” He knelt down and sought her hand hidden in the midst of the folds of her dress. He froze as he felt a sharp point prick his neck.

“I shall not fight,” said Anne, as she rose to her feet.

“You are right, you don’t need any lessons. I’m sorry, I forgot woman have wits that are stronger than any blade,” mumbled Mazarin, without sarcasm, and bowed his head. 

The sword was too weighty for Anne’s wrists; she moved its point away from his neck and rested the end on the floor. She didn’t want her hand to slip and cut an artery. Mazarin stayed on his knees. Why did he stay down like a beaten dog? It wasn’t as if he was easily cowed, not when she whacked him with a riding crop when she came in angry, at any rate. Nor was he afraid to order his Queen around; he did badger her to marry him all the time. She’d considered him truly brave in being able to stand his ground despite any fears he might feel. What was wrong with him: had the rowdy crowd outside broken his nerve? 

“Sometimes I wonder if I love you or if it’s just a habit,” said Anne. “Ah and now you tremble. Why?” He looked smaller somehow crouched in the middle of a pool of red satin. 

“I fear losing your love more than anything. I would be lost without you.”

“Because I’d throw you to your enemies.”

“No, that is not so.”

“Maybe not in the past, but you can think of nothing else but the rebels. You are too wrapped up in your own fears to be a lover anymore.”

Mazarin looked up. “That isn’t so either. If you will raise me up and take me to your bed I will forget the outside world.”

“And you will be a man again and not a quivering wreck?”

“Truly, for are not men made in women’s beds?”

Anne smiled. A jest, now that was like her Jules. “I use my tears and you use your humour. Neither of us needs swords.”

“We could do with someone with a sword who could be trusted,” said Mazarin and kissed her hand.

“I remember someone who once served me well, but that can wait until the morning,” said Anne, discarding the sword.


End file.
